


Mementos

by UsagiSquared



Series: Polaris AU [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Gen, No death IN the fics just, responses to A death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsagiSquared/pseuds/UsagiSquared
Summary: Everyone handles death differently-this was how they managed.Individual character focuses for other members of the cast and Numbers Club, following the death of Yuuma in Polaris.





	1. Eltanin

_He was too late._

They assured him, of course, of how wrong he was. Of how, by the time he had arrived, it had been long enough that the body was becoming difficult to move, grip locking and tightening upon the bars that had separated Yuuma from any escape.

He was too late. That was a fact. Even if he had left hours beforehand, sailing over the seas with Orbital, he would have been too late. He had arrived upon the island and upon reaching the ruins bolted through ancient halls and faded frescoes, half floating over steps with an urgency whose origins escaped even him, and soon enough, were revealed.

Revealed by the shell shock of an alien spirit, who could do nothing but hover before the corpse after bringing a hand through his face and pulling it back and close. By the infuriated roars that had devolved into broken sobs, and by the wailing cries that had quieted from the exhaustion of a hopeless retrieval.

_‘They won’t move… The bars… Won’t move…’_

“Orbital.”

It was understood that to remove the bars was impossible, but to move around them was not. So with extended limbs the robot did as asked, and carried him gently up the steps, as though there were yet life within the two halves that could be protected.

And he had reached, initially, for the key upon the steps, yet it was Astral who interrupted him. It was Astral who stated–'It is Kotori’s now’, with a voice dull and flat, and quite sorely disbelieving.

Kotori was to take the key. And with it, she would hold close the body’s upper half, with everyone rising into the key-ship and preparing to head home. She held it close, and the gears of the ship seemed to falter–they ground to a halt, almost confused, whilst those on board searched for a way to repair it. How were they to get home, if there could be no ship? How could they get home in time to explain anything?

Or at least, as was realized bitterly, to lie.

He had been too late.

Too late, and thus the gears slowly churned again, creaking and grinding in their struggle to take off. Under the force of all their misery, and through the closed hands of the new key bearer, taking off through the gaps between dimensions and coming to a grinding halt not long after. Perhaps it could no longer move. Perhaps the ship itself knew, in a sense, the best location for landing. The map of the numbers had flashed and crackled, as if to demand they stop elsewhere, but as they continued to push toward Heartland, it at last faded. The memory of the map etched into the minds of all those there–

Just as the memory of his blood-caked face. As the memory of his 'repaired’ corpse, dressed all in white–the face cleared and made to hide any bruises or scrapes from prior death, the eyes closed over in an eternal sleep. If left to their own devices, the Tsukumo family would never have been able to afford such treatment. The vanishment of Kazuma, and Mirai, had been enough. To survive on what they had, was enough. None had expected to make plans for a funeral, none.

And if they had, it had not been for him.

Seven ruins, two visited, and five to go. Orbital had the map ready, and before they left, they had made their demands. The funeral was paid for–and after all, how could his father even begin to refuse a final favor for the son of he one he had betrayed, for the one who had brought him to his 'senses’. A gravesite was chosen, a stone carved, and an urn buried beneath the ground as a crowd stood before it under the betrayingly bright sun.

Five ruins remaining, and Kotori had the key. He did not blame her, of course. Kotori had not been a duelist before, and to expect her to leap to action immediately after a funeral would be ridiculous, let alone expecting her to hold her ground against the Barians.

Yet it was Kotori who had the key, and upon Kotori’s shoulders that the burden now lay upon.

’ _Did you find his key?’ 'His cards, they’re gone as well…’ 'Please, he never went anywhere without them–’_

_’_ **We did not.** _’_

What else could they have said. What else could they have told a family in mourning, a family who already did not realize just what it was that had happened to bring such a violent death?

He was too late. Too late, this was what he told himself, even now when the body was burned, even now when the ashes buried and all others involved being made to deal with the consequences. Kotori was not ready, and would not be for some time. And so, as they left the wake, he paused to wait for her to pass, and as well, for Astral himself to reveal his presence.

’ _Stay hidden_ ,’ he warned, ’ _And stay safe_.’ He could not argue the wishes of the dead, however much he disagreed–and if he could not do that then he could at least make sure those wishes were seen through to the end. 

If Kotori could not fight just yet, then he would simply take the battle away from their field. Take it far from the target that was the Emperor’s Key, and make certain that history would not repeat itself.

He was too late.

This time, then, he would start the hunt before that could even become an option.


	2. Basiliscus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a curious trait, the sense that a cat has. Observed largely in felines kept in hospitals, or the homes of the elderly, they appear to understand the moment when a human’s life has come to its end, and are rarely, if ever, wrong…
> 
> Or so the story goes.

Yuuma had left that day in the middle of lunch, when they were on break. She and the others had been out in the school yard when they saw the ship, and before any could even call out to him or any of those with him, they were gone. They supposed it figured, really–and as it were, they had no doubts that he would soon return.

Classes from there had passed somewhat normally–Ukyo-sensei was told that both Yuuma and Kotori weren’t feeling well, and were in the nurse’s office, and the excuse seemed to hold relatively well. Yuuma might not have been particularly studious after all, but he was no ‘skipper’, and Kotori was even less likely a perpetrator. The bell rang, and it was time to go home–Tetsuo took off on his skateboard, Tokunosuke vanished into the crowds as he typically did (not that he was hard to find again), and Takashi calmly tended to his duties in helping to tidy up from the day.

It was a little worrisome, that they hadn’t returned yet, however she chose to pay it no mind for the moment. She had homework to do, and many friends to feed, friends who walked at her side just now.

Until quite abruptly, they, along with she herself, froze.

There was a chill over the air, it seemed. A deadly, paralyzing chill that threatened to stop their hearts all at once. Just as quickly as it had come, it had passed, however, and with that in mind she turned to walk in the other direction.

Just to check up on things, she told herself. Perhaps the others had parked the ship elsewhere today, and Yuuma was already home. It only took a few jumps to reach his attic–she might not have visited it in some time, but that did not change.

However no one was there, and lest she be caught standing in the middle of the room, she soon convinced herself to leave. The chill, it seemed, was back. A strong and commanding sense that refused to leave for a second time, crushing her heart in its grip. To go home now would be impossible, she felt, and her friends seemed to understand that as well.

Something was wrong.

That was what the sense was, and all of them felt it. Something was horribly, terribly wrong, and the more she accepted this sensation, the quicker she ran with the cats at her side. Hopping fences and roof-tops, kicking down to various walkways until the walkways were no more. Until the paved roads of Heartland were replaced by dirtied and cracked tarmac, with tall structures of steel in sheets and poles both, let at the side.

Something was wrong here, she realized coldly, and as the sensation grew stronger, the cats at her side stared to the space before them, in an expectant sort of mourning. That was when the ship had appeared.

That was when, in a beam of light, she saw what was 'wrong’.

“Yuuma…”

The wrongness had passed, but while the sensation that clawed so violently at her heart was gone, the pain had merely changed. As the people had left, the cats had arrived. An urn of ash buried in the ground and marked by stone, dedicated to a child, stood before them after all–a sight painful enough when it held the ashes of the elderly dead. Two people remained. Then one, and then none save herself, her presence ghosted over and ignored as had always been in the past. She could not leave the spot, she felt. If anything, she came closer, eyes glazed and staring at the characters upon the stone while the yard was slowly filled with the felines of the city.

He was their friend.

Their precious friend, with the 'cattobingu’. The one who helped her to speak, and the one whom she had admired. He was… The one.

The one whose heart had caused them such pain not long before. Caused the chill that rang through the air with the swing of an axe, and the never ending cold which followed in death. For those few moments it had been, for those moments when it had the potential to be dismissed as an unknown, it had refused to pass.

“ _Nyarrrroooo…_ ”

The cats were starting to cry, now.

“ _NyaaaaAAAROOOOOO_ ” “ _NYOOOOOOOO_ ” “ _NYROOOOOOOOOO–_ ”

A precious friend with whom they shared their paradise, their field of dreams on the duel field. A precious friend who had given them more, and had never asked anything in return. A very…

Very precious…

“ _NYARRROOOOOOOOON-_ ” “ _RYYOOOOOOOONN-_ ” “ _NYOOOOOORRRRROOOOO–_ ”

“ _NYAAAAAAAA **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAN** –!”_

They sang for him a final goodbye, a chorus of yowls and caterwauls in the dying light of the sun. One final cry to his name, a final song to remember.

And when they left, they left no further evidence of having been there at all.


	3. Canis Minoris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re still friends, right -ura?”

After Cathy found them, a lot of calls were made.

The first call however, had not been to the authorities as one would have thought. No–instead, the first call had been to those who  _knew_. To those who had known of the things they dealt with, and to those who would understand what had happened–or at least, partially understand. The call had been made despite open protest from those who brought with them the corpse, however Cathy, as it seemed, had felt that this was a matter which needed explanation. Some had been unable to answer, for whatever reason there was. These were the ones who received the news through alternate sources, through parents on the phone, and through later conversations to be had. Some, however, arrived just in time for the second string of calls to be made, and for the ‘first responders’ to arrive.

_'It was a fall, -ura.’_  He had been the first to lie.

Paramedics had arrived, if at least to treat the others for shock. The body had been gently pried from Kotori’s arms and as it was moved, something gold slipped away into her hands, held close to her heart as she trembled and collapsed. He had been the first to lie while she was carried away to the side and wrapped in a blanket and offered tea and words of comfort, asked of numbers for her relatives, and for anyone who could help now. While the others insisted they were fine, pushing for still others to take the help instead, he had lied.

_'It’s very dangerous here after all, -ura! From that height, anything sharp would do it. From that height,’_  he had lied, trembling with each word, _'Of course…’_

Had Shark moved against him in anger? He could not tell, as the words passed his lips. However as others were questioned, his lie was not revealed for what it was. No.

Instead, it seemed, his lie was accepted as truth.

Why wasn’t there blood on the scene? It had been raining, had it not?

Why was he so far from the metal? They had wanted to take him away from it, had they not?

If it had been only his word, they would never have believed him. Of that, he was certain. With the word of Shark, and of his sister however–with even Kotori and Kaito chiming in, along with Cathy, and Takashi–

They had not all been there, but they had been there before the ambulance arrived. That had been enough.

That had been enough, for the lie to become the truth, and for the truth that had been created to cut apart as its creator had been.

He didn’t wear his hat that day, at the wake. His mother wouldn’t let him in the end, and he had no strength to argue. It was a sea of black, every last one of them, and as he stood with Takashi in the back rows, it was also a sea of silence.

Everything was falling apart now.

_'It’s an expensive grave-plot,’_  Takashi had noted. _’…Do you think, the one who paid for it was–’_

_'He’s the only one who can, -ura.’_  There had been no further questioning that fact.

' _Kotori has the key now_ ,’ Takashi had noted further.  _'Do you think, they also have–’_

_'Not so loud -ura!’_  he scolded with a hiss,  _'If his sister or grandma hears you, she’ll have to give it back -ura!’_

There was worry for the snap itself to give them away, but none had moved to turn back toward them.

They had not been heard.

If it had been anything else, if it had been a normal day, a normal secret, he would have been heard.

Now, however, everything was going right, and all because of a greater 'wrong’.

And everything was falling apart now. Like a lie to be unraveled, they were falling apart. Cathy retreated to her cats in silence. Kotori shut herself away in her apartment, taking time off to recover, and Rio vanished with her brother, likely to struggle with the matter of keeping both sides sane. Tetsuo would not be seen outside for a duel–wherever he was, that became unknown, and as for themselves…

Everything was falling apart, and he did not know what to do. _'What do we do?_ ’ he finally asked when the date of the burial had come. “What now, -ura?”

“…I don’t know.” They were chilled words, and broken words, that Takashi gave. Knowledge was his specialty, research and fact a thing he embraced. Yet there were always those things that could not be explained, and when those things caused such a crime as this, in the end his research did nothing. There was no comfort, however false the comfort would have been, and not even a lie could shield them now.

“…Are we…” It was difficult to speak. To tell the truth, to trust another with such words. It was a dangerous thing, one which always carried with it a double ended blade. A blade Yuuma had had turned upon him, in fact.

A blade that he nonetheless pushed beyond for so many others.

“…Are we still friends, -ura?”

Takashi turned to him almost in shock, and after only a moment of staring to take in what had been said, he fixed upon his face a strained yet all too empathetic smile. “Of course,” he replied, swallowing. “To summarize… If we were to let this separate us, Yuuma would never forgive us for it, right?” Yuuma always forgave though. That was what made him 'Yuuma’.

Instead of saying so however, he nodded. That was not the point of Takashi’s words. There was no flipside in the statement, no hidden meaning to stab him back. Yuuma would understand, after all.

The casket closed over, and they were made to leave, the family staying behind for the cremation of the corpse.

Everything was falling apart.

Perhaps however, they would find some way to pull it together for him once more.


	4. Alhabor

’ _Hey, Tetsuo!_ ’

It happened everyday. The kid in the row ahead would challenge him to a duel, going on about how he was going to be the champion one day, and that he had ‘kattobingu’, which meant he had to keep going toward that. They’d get set up on the bridge on the school grounds, the duel would start, and–

_'wRAAAAAUGH–’_

He would lose.

It happened every day, and every day the same thing would happen, and in the end it was why they had become friends.

It was contagious, right? That kind of optimism. Once he started smiling, you couldn’t help but smile along in the end. And when the key had been broken, and the smile had dropped, it showed, then. As though a light had been snuffed, blown back by some dark force–the smile stopped, and so in the end he searched until he found the thing that would bring the smile back. He warned him–

Yet of course, Yuuma did not listen. He fought Shark–the key repaired, and a 'miracle’ happened, in the end.

Yuuma won.

The key, and Astral, led him to many duels after that–incredible duels, duels with such importance tied to them that they could only be called 'once in a lifetime successes’.

He won them all. The duel against Kaito, when the key had been stolen. The duel against III, who nearly destroyed his very heart. The duel against Tron, Faker–and each of the barians thereafter!

However it was not without its consequences. Scrapes and bruises that needed perhaps a little extra explanation, evenings spent outside the house behind his sister and grandmother’s back. Moments so intense, in fact, that he would be hospitalized for what had happened–

- _bRLRLRLRLLRLLRLRR-_ -

“Ara? Tsukumo-san?”

When he came into the kitchen, his mother was like a statue. Frozen in place, her hand holding the phone to her ear in silence. It was clear that she was listening to something, however what that something was, he did not know.

“Tetsuko?” he asked, looking to his sister. “Mom?”

His mother said nothing–and his sister merely pulled him close into a greatly unexpected hug, which took him so far off guard that he could do little more than blink in response.

“Oi… What’s wrong?”

“Tetsuo,” his sister started, choking over her words. There was a sensation of thick sorrow in the air as she struggled to speak, the boy looking up sightly in confusion. “Yuuma… Yuuma is…”

What was wrong?

“Yuuma’s what?” They couldn’t finish the words, and the longer they failed to do so, the more he felt himself grow cold. “What happened?!”

Death.

That, was what happened.

They 'repaired’ the body with incredible skill, not that they would have been able to tell too much. The most they would have had to have done was fill the middle somewhat and stitch it back together, just enough that they could cover it with the white fabric of the burial clothes. And when it was burned, when he thought he was alone in the after math, or at least enough that it didn’t matter any more, he felt himself fill with rage.

“You…” He choked, glaring at the stone before him. “Dammit, Yuuma–! I thought you were done with breaking promises!” he shouted, with nothing but the wind to answer him. “You swore to me! You swore, to everyone, that you’d be 'duel champion’!”

’ _sorry_ ’, he could almost hear on the wind, with that carefree laugh.  _'sorry! I slipped up!’_

“Liar…” What a stupid lie, to spread without thinking. “You were going to be the 'greatest duelist’… You liar!”

_'sorry’_  the wind continued to whistle, leaves blowing through the air.  _'sorry, sorry, sorry–’_

He couldn’t be gone, he wanted to tell himself, trembling in place. He simply couldn’t have been. He would close his eyes and it would all be over, it would all be a dream. A twisted dream where Yuuma’s death hadn’t occurred while he was just walking home, and the notice of it when he had finished getting ready for bed after a shower. Just a dream–a nightmare really, that was all it would be.

_'i’m sorry– sorry, sorry, so sorry–’_

When he opened his eyes however he instead saw the same pillar of stone from before, with the leaves blowing in the wind and irritating his already watering eyes.

’ _Hey, Tetsuo!_ ’ he could hear him laugh, grinning. ’ _One more time! Lets duel again, alright?’_

“…Moron,” the boy murmured, bowing his head while he shook. “I can’t duel you where you are now.”

_'sorry!’_


End file.
